


Streets

by heavymetalbarnes



Series: Exploring The Wicked of The Good [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky's actually kinda decent for being a pimp?, Dom Bucky Barnes, Multi, Natasha isn't as bad as she looks, school just wasn't her thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 07:03:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10985847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavymetalbarnes/pseuds/heavymetalbarnes
Summary: Street smarts can help you, especially when you work the way Bucky and Natasha do.





	1. Late-Night Run

**Author's Note:**

> tbh this is loosely based off of one of my favorite movies, "Hustle and Flow", just minus the rap career approach

It raised his blood to extravagant heights whenever a car passed them by. Bucky, cradling a rapid burning cigarette in his mouth, took a calming drag from his stick and exhaled the gray smoke from his nose. His elbow remained perched on the rolled down windowsill of his car door and his hand supporting his head. 

The tar was slicked with muddy rain water, tires made it known when they were rolling past. Neon lights from stores were illuminated tenfold from the water soaking into the sidewalks. Bucky had to keep his tired eyes from glancing in their direction. Whether it was the atmosphere of the rain or the fact he’d been running on an hour’s rest, Bucky found himself yawning and catching the burning cigarette in his palm before it fell, causing him to wince and toss the nub of nicotine out the window.

“Shut up.” He grumbled to the laughing passenger next to him, wiping his tingling palm on his pant leg. “Ah c’mon now Buck, lighten up.” The red haired woman encouraged, nudging Bucky’s arm with her knuckles. Entrapped in her slender fingers was a crystal pink lollipop, smaller in size than what it was 30 minutes ago. She placed the sugar orb back in her mouth, with crimson lips closing around the paper stick. “Natasha, don’t fucking tell me to “lighten up”. It’s Friday night, and we’ve seen-what, five fucking cars pass us by in the hour we’ve been here?” An anxious hand rubbed Bucky’s forehead and swept through his hair. He quickly dug into his suit jacket’s breast pocket and retrieved a slightly bent cigarette. Placing it between his lips, he snatched his lighter off of the dashboard and ignited the stick, blowing a calming fog of smoke out.

Natasha pulled out her candy with a small ‘pop’ and waved it around. “You’ve gotta get out of that habit, it’s gonna kill you one day before the cops do.” Her statement caught Bucky’s attention with a huffed laugh and a nod. He held the cigarette between his index and middle fingers and smiled. “You really think so?” He asked, looking over at Natasha. She nodded, taking a quick swipe of her lollipop. 

There was an exclamation from her and a soft crack on the road after Bucky grabbed her candy and threw it on the ground. She stared at him, both in offense and shock from how sudden the event was. “What the hell was that for?” Bucky shrugged and kept his attention on the quiet street ahead of him. “Maybe if you sucked dick as well as you suck lollipops we’d have more Johns.” “I resent that, y’know.” Natasha snapped, crossing her arms over her presented chest. Her outfit consisted of her usual attire: a low cut black V-neck, black leather skirt and black heels. She would earn herself the title “Black Widow” not from her all black outfit, but from how quickly she’d go in for the kill and end up either on the lap or backseat of a John who sought out interest to be in-between the company of her legs.

“Do you even know what that means?” Natasha opened her mouth to continue her argument, but quickly shut it when she knew she’d showcase her high school drop-out education further. Bucky chuckled and patted her bare knee. “It’s alright, I know you’re smart in your own way.” The glare of headlights and slick tires slowing down caught both Bucky and Natasha’s attention. The hum of the window rolling down made Bucky’s heart thump heavily in his chest and his stomach coil and spin. 

"How much you charge?"

Natasha started to lean over to answer her own prices, but the stranger stopped her. “Not you, sweetheart.” They looked over at Bucky and waited. After the wheels started turning, Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, oh no man, I don’t-” “I got a hundred in my pocket. I’ll give you another if I like it.” It was silent after the deal offered was hung in the air to dry, and Bucky started to really think about this. Natasha leaned over to whisper to Bucky. “This is the first John we’ve had all night and he’s offerin’ a hundred bucks. You gotta take this or else we can’t go home.” “I ain’t got all night.” The stranger snapped impatiently. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Bucky took a final drag from his cigarette, which was mostly ash taking the length of the stick now. 

“Alright, fine. But I’m topping.”

Through the darkness and glaring headlights, Bucky saw the white teeth smile of the stranger. “Deal.”


	2. One Time Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's basically summertime for me, so y'all know what the fuck that means ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> lots more writing ofc

It was silent.

Way too goddamn silent.

Bucky needed noise, he needed something to cut through the veil of quietness draped over the stranger and him. He took that back. He wasn’t a stranger, his name was Steve. Steve Rogers. Steve was a slicked blond haired, muscular, and oddly polite, man. Bucky didn’t want to know his name. He didn’t even want to know what the inside of his car looked like, but here he was, sitting in the cleanest car he’d ever seen in his life. The police cars he’d been picked up in were neat, yes, but there’d always been the occasional candy bar wrapper peeking out from its cave tucked far under the front seats, or crumbs from their typical daily diets of packed sandwiches or donuts strewn around the black carpet floor. 

This was new for him. Everything happening right now was new for him. 

He’d explain how he felt later, but for now business was calling and he needed to answer it.

“So”, Bucky began, “how does this work exactly?” Steve looked at him with a cocked eyebrow and side smile. “For someone who works in this profession, I’m surprised you haven’t the foggiest about how this works.” Bucky didn’t know how to respond to what Steve said, mainly because he’s never heard someone say ‘haven’t the foggiest’ in his life. “Who the hell uses the weather when they talk?” He thought out-loud, cursing when Steve started laughing. Shifting to face Bucky, Steve kept the smile on his face as he explained. 

“It doesn’t actually involve weather?”  
“Nope.”  
“Then why is it-”  
“It’s a figure of speech, man. It just means that you don’t know the answer to something.” 

“Holy shit.” Bucky said, with his mind coming into sudden clarity. But his moment was cut short when he remembered the only reason he was in here: $100 and an extra one if he liked it. 

“Okay look, I’m only here for the hundred bucks you promised. This has been nice and all, but we really need that money.” Bucky explained. Steve’s smile faded, but didn’t go away altogether. With a nod, he dug into his front jean pocket to fish out his wallet. His fingers retrieved a green paper all too familiar to Bucky’s memory. “Here.” Steve held the bill out for Bucky to grab and leave with. Something didn’t feel right in Bucky when he started reaching out for the dollar. He was a business man, and business men always completed a job for their earn. It was a moral thing, a code of conduct if you will.

A bite of his lip and a giant leap of confidence later, Bucky found himself straddling Steve’s legs and telling him to put his money back. 

“Steve, I’m a business man. And a business man always gets the job done if he wants to be successful.” 

Now it was Steve’s turn to bite his lip. “Then let’s get down to business.”


	3. A Little Foggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's a business man, and business men get the job done right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost a YEAR since I updated? Man, my complete bad y'all!  
> But this next chapter is gonna be kinda NSFW?? Nothing majorly graphic, I ain't THAT good a writer

It. Was. Hot.

Both in the literal and metaphorical sense.

Steve was moaning, gasping as he desperately tried to grip his sweat slick fingers onto Bucky's sweat glazed back. His head was thrown back in pleasure, with his mouth ajar and breathless moans erupting from his throat. He was in paradise in the backseat of his car. The back of his ankle from a leg raised in the air was hitting the seat they fucked on. It'd cause a wicked bruise the next day, but he didn't care. The hot pit in his stomach and the hard thrusts were all his mind could think about. 

Oh god, that pit. It grew warmer just like his moans grew louder. Bucky could hear, and feel, that he was getting close to erupting. So was he. It was nothing like the girls he'd been with, for many obvious reasons. But goddamn, was it just as good. At least this one wouldn't run a risk of getting pregnant or trying to stick around after they were done. Or try and milk him for cab fair when all was said and done. Damn that broad. Trash sex and head and you wanna steal my wallet while I'm getting dressed? Bucky never forgave her for that. But, completely besides the point of what was happening.

An eruption was happening. Gritted teeth, hand prints on a steam covered window, and moans later- it happened.  
A white explosion of pleasure and exhaustion landed on Steve's chest and Bucky's hand.  
A few calm down breaths and a laugh were all Bucky needed before getting dressed again.

-  
Bucky woke up in his bed, confused as to where he was as his eyes adjusted to the new sight. He slowly rose from his empty bed to shiver as his feet met the cold wood floor. He was both glad, but disappointed he had no blankets to sleep with. Summer was a time to be glad, but winter was the season he never entered the house without a jacket on. He'd be damned before he paid the sleazy, greaseball landlord an extra $10 charge to his already expensive rent for some fucking fire scented heat from a decades old heater in the basement. Natasha could complain all she wanted, but Bucky made it a constant to remind her how lucky she was to even stay with him and not some roach infested, hooker hotspot of a motel. She usually shut her mouth afterwards since she had nothing to throw back as argument towards him.

A few steps to his right and Bucky was in the kitchen, hands going to work to fix himself a cup of coffee. During the process of pouring his measured pot of water into the machine, he stopped to take in his surroundings. A glance at the clock nailed to the wall. 8:34am.  
An hour. Natasha's late by an hour.  
Bucky thought nothing of it at first, since they were out until midnight after Steve left. No John's since him.

At 8:40, Bucky abandoned his coffee to throw on his jacket and head out the door. Keys in his pocket, unbothered to lock his door.  
He peeked inside Natasha's room to find that she wasn't there and her bed was unmade from the previous day. The apartment was tiny, any noise you made could be heard from inches away. Everything was silent as his morning progressed.

As one door closed, another across the hall opened. The sound of metal music and the stench of gasoline flooded the tiny hall.  
"Hey Buckaroo." Tony, the neighbor of apartment 24, across from Bucky's 23, greeted. "Where you off to this early?"  
"Nat didn't come home and I gotta find her." Bucky sighed, running a hand through his bed head. "Any idea where she could be?"  
"Have you tried that diner down the block? Damn, what's it called- Salt 'n Pepper! I remember she told me a while back that she had applied for a waitressing job there."

Bucky huffed and shook his head. "Of course she did." He nodded to Tony and thanked him for his help, as he set off to find Natasha and bring her ass home.


	4. Dine and Dash

Natasha knew she wasn't supposed to go to the diner.

 

Natasha knew she wasn't supposed to have a form in her hand, telling her where to buy her uniform.

 

Natasha knew she wasn't supposed to be in Bucky's mustang, listening to him yell at her for something she already knew.

 

"Don't go down to the fucking diner! How hard is that to understand?"

 

 

Natasha didn't respond. She let her red hair be the curly barricade between Bucky's glare and the tears glossing her eyes.

 

 

Ever since she'd become partners with Bucky, he kept his rules the same and very short: don't interact with cops, attack a John if they start getting too aggressive, don't cheat him out of money, and stay away from socially acceptable jobs. Natasha had gone five years without breaking a single rule, until now.

 

Now she had small, dark splatters on her paper from the tears that disobeyed her wish to stay in. She had Bucky unleashing a loud storm of insults and facts even a person like her, who she'd categorized as "dumb", could remember. She took this as her punishment for not following the rules. She felt like a child, caught with blended marker streaks on their hand, looking down at their feet as their parent scolded them for drawing on the white walls. Natasha accepted that. Mentally, she felt like a kid. She knew right from wrong, left from right, yes and no. Yet here she was, with the markers in her hand and her parent scolding her for drawing on the wall.

 

 

"I cannot believe this, I absolutely cannot fucking believe this." Bucky fumed, combing his hand through his hair. "After countless times, I just-" He cut himself off to sigh. He stared at the red light with eyes that out-colored the cherry light. He stepped on the gas pedal on command when cherry flicked to lime.

 

"Y'know," he began, "I took you in because I thought the others were wrong. They said you were stupid, had no basic knowledge, that you just knew how to be a whore better than a student."

 

Natasha clenched her throat. Her teeth clamped down on her bottom lip. Her cheeks were alive with tear trails again.

 

Bucky continued his tangent. "But I said 'no, lemme give her a chance to show you that she's good, that she's better than that'. You know what you just did?"

 

For a brief second, Bucky turned his head to backhand Natasha on the arm. "You gonna answer me or what?"

 

"Wh-what did.. I do?" Natasha asked, no longer worrying for her voice wavering.

 

"You proved them right, Natasha. That's what you fucking did. You just proved that you're literally nothing but a cheap, alleyway whore."

 

 

Bucky didn't raise his voice. He didn't explode in a flailing tantrum behind the wheel. He didn't hit, slap, or pull at Natasha. In her mind, that would've been a better Bucky to deal with.  
No, Bucky was contained. He spoke at the same range of voice, getting louder by a sliver of an octave when he was focused on the road and not on what he drove out of his mouth. He spoke with intent, a disinterest to her feelings. Bucky was violent without being physical, he hurt more than a punch in the face when he was angry. Simply because he was contained.

 

This was the Bucky Natasha never thought she'd endure. And now, she felt even more like a child.


	5. Natasha By Herself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely feel bad for Natasha. And I MADE her character in this story.  
> This chapter is probably the shortest in the story, but I think that's fine, considering how big her backstory is. Sometimes the least amount of words have a lot of volume, y'know?

At five, a teary eyed preschool Natasha Romanoff is sent to live with her father, after her mother is arrested for choosing to raise her drug habit more than her daughter.

  
At seven, she's sent to The Red Room adoption agency, when her father's sickness is worse than he let on. Cancer wasn't in her vocabulary yet, until she took science later on in seventh grade and left the room crying when she learned of what her father suffered from.

  
At eight, she's adopted by a family of a, recently found infertile, wife and husband, with a boy around Natasha's age. They smile at her with tear thick eyes and open arms, embracing her in the love she's forgotten.

  
At 16, she drops out of school when her boyfriend gets her pregnant with a child she never got to meet. Her parents are furious, but understanding when she cries to them, holding her flat stomach that never rose with her child.

  
At 18, she leaves her home with a backpack busting at the zipper with clothes and makeup, a hand crushing the only cash she was given by her frowning father and her head screaming the words her distraught mother yelled at her with hot tears running down her red face. Having found out their daughter was selling her bedroom pleasures to men she'd met through friends and on corners, they pleaded with her to put her efforts into something safer. She shook her head, explaining in a wavering voice that this was the only way she could make money without proof of her completing highschool. Her mother stood, screaming at Natasha that she was wrong and going to get herself killed in a backseat. She left, leaving Natasha with tears down her face and her silent father, who didn't once look at his daughter, except to hand her bent and wrinkled dollar bills for her journey outside the house.

  
At 22, she meets a man who promises her a home and safety from the wicked men who drive the streets. Natasha is skeptical at first, seeing as how he's a clean cut man who probably wouldn't know the difference between Broadway and The Boulevard. Bucky, as he'd introduced himself, placed a hand over her own and gave her his word to protect her and give her a chance at a new life, one that'd give her more money than she'd be able to handle. And love.


End file.
